


A hard day's night

by amarmeme



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Quest: Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, F/M, First Time, Romance Trope Appreciation, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarmeme/pseuds/amarmeme
Summary: Cullen's had enough with the Orlesian court, retiring to his chamber only to find it's already occupied...





	A hard day's night

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for Day One of Leather & Lace event on Tumblr was just too good to pass up. Bed-sharing is a sacred trope that should be cherished. So I eagerly wrote up a little Cullen x Trevelyan after the events of Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.

The entirety of the Orlesian court could burn as far as he was concerned. Each frippery was worse than the last: feathered, jeweled masks hid a person’s true intent while their words betrayed nothing and fingers pinching through silken gloves plucked the skin just as hard. Enough was enough. Cullen had bore worse for far longer, but this was a different sort of assault. It was depraved. These demons were real; flesh and blood humans who enjoyed his obvious discomfort as a national pastime. As the last noble clutched his arse with a painful twist, Cullen shimmed out of his place near the window and with as dignified a voice as possible, excused himself. **  
**

Josephine and Leliana accepted his abrupt departure with condescension so thinly veiled they might as well had offered to tuck him in with a warm glass of milk and a bedtime tale. He’d failed another of their unnamed tests; the pair smirked knowingly at one another as The Game claimed its latest victim. It didn’t bother him anymore, the silent evaluations. He’d long since accepted the fact he was no diplomat.

Cullen headed for the solace of his chamber, taking easy strides and nodding across the room at fellow Inquisition members as he passed. Cassandra caught him with a murderous glare. It was a plea if he’d ever seen one cross the warrior’s face, but unfortunate for her, he’d already reached his limit on noble navel gazing. He raised his hand apologetically, and quickened his pace. The hallway couldn’t come soon enough.

Spinning crisply on his heel, Cullen disappeared from the sight of the masses, heading down a dimly lit corridor towards the private chambers. Regrettably, he hadn’t spotted Charlotte in the crowds. It seemed their leader had retired after their private moment on the balcony earlier, and he couldn’t fault her for that. They’d both promised to meet up once she’d had the chance to clean the blood and grime off herself after fighting Florianne and her agents. Maybe she’d taken the break to collect herself only to choose her bed over the spectacle of the court. Although part of him very much wanted to see her again, he understood the temptation for solitude all too well. They’d speak again in the morning, and privately if he could manage it.

With his conscious almost completely relieved at abandoning the scene early, Cullen unlocked his stately door with ease, feeling the pressure of the day slide from his shoulders as the lock gave way. He looked in at his temporary domain and breathed a sigh of relief. The room was well lit already, a state that must have been the result of court trained servants. He’d only been in the room a moment or two earlier in the day before the Inquisitor and her party arrived. It was cold and sterile then, but it felt warm and lavish now: a hot bath already poured in the ornate tub next to the fireplace; a tray of delicacies placed within reach that he would have scoffed at in company, yet were secretly delicious; a decanter of wine fixed near a low settee. He undid the buttons at his neck with one hand and turned towards the giant bed he’d only gazed at briefly before. He stepped towards it, ready to divest himself of the stiff collared jacket when a sudden movement caught his eye.

Someone had flipped over in his bed. He paused in his tracks, assessing his surroundings again. Perhaps he’d entered the wrong room. The key had opened the door, but maybe Orlesians played practical jokes. His nerves jangled until he spotted the gleam of his weapons in the corner. No, this was his room, at least, the room he’d entered before. Looking towards the bed again, contemplating what to do, his unwanted guest sighed and pushed back the covers. A slim, pale shoulder emerged, as well as a coil of red hair. The guest flipped again, huffing and sorting the sheets with annoyance. Cullen edged closer. A surge of relief passed through him at the sight, knowing who the restless guest was. Then as quickly as it came on, the relief was surpassed by sudden nerves. Had Charlotte meant to surprise him? They’d yet to… take that important next step in their relationship, but was this her way of suggesting it was time? As much as he welcomed the idea of relishing her, another part of him still felt tainted by the stain of the nobles’ graceless attempts to grope him earlier. He hovered indecisively until a fluttered sigh passed her lips and Charlotte began speaking in her sleep.

“That’s – I don’t know if I can,” she mumbled. “It'stoomuchIcan'ttakeit–” Her words slurred together rapidly.

Cullen sat on the edge of the bed and shook her shoulder. Gently at first, then with bit more force to wake her from her dream. It didn’t sound pleasant.

“Charlotte,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

Her eyes peeled open slowly, and the instant she recognized fully him her cheeks became a mottled red. Her hands flew to cover her chest, as if she was exposed.

“It sounded like a bad dream,” he remarked, eager to move past any awkwardness.

If anything that comment made her more unnerved. She coughed over a strained laugh, wiping the corner of her eyes.

“Why are you in my room?” She asked, sitting up at last. One of the silken, peach colored straps of her camisole had fallen down, exposing an entirely naked line of neck and shoulder he had a sudden urge to cover with his mouth. She stared expectantly and Cullen realized he hadn’t heard what she’d said.

His eyes flicked back to hers. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she supplied. “I bathed and then – I was just too tired to come back down. I should have sent someone to tell you, but I fell asleep…”

It was his turn to look confused. “You didn’t expect me in my own room?”

“Your room?” Charlotte peered around as if appraising the space. “This is my room. Who?” He tracked her gaze. As she spied his sword and shield in the corner at last, her eyes widened. They both spoke at once.

“…Josephine and Leliana made all the arrangements, perhaps they assumed…”

“…I wouldn’t have just plopped into bed had I known…”

They were both silent for a moment. A question sizzled in the air as they looked at one another. His jacket was still open and she stared at the planes of his chest not covered by his undershirt, as mesmerized by the skin there as he’d been with her neck. She gulped visibly, the soft line of her throat swallowing hard. A lump of nerves most likely, the same kind that had stolen his speech without warning. Did she want him to leave? Should he offer to leave? Wasn’t that the proper thing to do?

“…I can find another room if…”

“…Do you want to stay with…”

They smiled as their words crashed over one another again. Charlotte laughed, flush rising all the way to the roots of her hair. “This shouldn’t be so difficult. It’s both our room. We can share.”

He didn’t want to presume anything. Cullen didn’t relish the idea of sleeping on the settee, but if she wasn’t ready, he wasn’t going to push. He stood up, leaving an indent in the plush bed covers.

“I can sleep by the fire.”

“Or with me,” she said steadily. “If you want – I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“You don’t,” he stated. She shook her head.

“We both had difficult days. I’ll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow again.”

He doubted that, but said nothing. He’d probably not get much sleep next to her, but the prospect didn’t sound too bad. Cullen had experienced enough restless nights for far worse reasons.

Charlotte shuffled over from her place in the middle of the bed and watched as he undressed. Cullen removed everything save his underclothes, folding his dress uniform neatly over the back of a nearby chair. Her things must have been in an armoire somewhere for him to have missed them entirely. He turned back to face her and Charlotte held up the down blanket, exposing her legs and the ridden-up edge of her night-rail. He gladly accepted the invitation, sliding in next to her, yet not touching. His arms itched to hold her, even if innocently. All the chaos of the day was culminating in such a sweet mess of a moment, but the most intimate they’d been to this point was kissing outside of his office. Sharing a bed was skipping so many layers of intimacy – or at least he guessed by his limited experience in the matter. Not that he hadn’t slept with others before. Those times had always been expressly casual. This was not.

He laid on his back, straining to think of  mundane things as she settled on her side, facing him. Charlotte sighed softly as she squirmed into a comfortable position.

“Goodnight,” she said, blinking sleepily already.

He moved without thinking, kissing her on the cheek as he might if she was leaving his office for the evening. It angled his whole body towards hers, a hand on her shoulder, over the fallen strap that had been brought back into place. “Goodnight,” he replied after the soft kiss, whispering against her skin. He didn’t lean back away, hadn’t moved at all really, his mouth still close to her cheek. The growing tension between them was clear to both; her chest rose as heavily as his. Her eyes were no longer tired, and her lips began to form a word he wasn’t ready to hear. Cullen slid his hand up her neck to cup her face, and angled in to kiss her earnestly. She moaned softly into his mouth, a little hopeless sigh from her throat. Charlotte scooted closer, Cullen pushed his trapped arm beneath her neck and the pair molded against one another. He smoothed her side under the bed covers and she placed both her palms on his chest. Not too push him away, but with uncertainty of what to do next.

He broke away from the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “We don’t have to continue,” he offered.

“But can we?” she said, surprising him. “I’ve been thinking far too much about the ‘when’ and now this opportunity has fallen into our laps. I don’t have any reasons why we should wait any longer.” He pulled back to better look at her and she grinned slowly. “If I hadn’t been covered in blood spatter earlier I may have suggested it.”

Nothing from earlier could reach him now. Laying with her there, it seemed a whole different place or time. The pampered, pompous Orlesians were far from mind. Not when the woman he loved was asking to be made love to. He kissed her again, fiercer. His fingers wove into her hair, her arms circled his neck. He wedged a leg between hers and she rocked against him, testing the new ground. He slipped down the strap of her night-rail and kissed that tempting slope of her neck, sending shivers everywhere. He sucked against the spot and she murmured, “bless Josie and Leliana their mischief.”

With a bolt of sudden realization, Cullen chuckled against her shoulder. That’s why the two had been smirking. Not because he was a poor sport, but because they’d set him up.

“I think you’re right,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d said I’d expected to hate this entire pointless trip.”

“But not anymore.” She ran a palm over his back. “Orlais isn’t so bad?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said dryly, picking her up and dumping her onto her back. Charlotte giggled, taking his face in her hands. He kissed the side of a wrist. “But there’s nowhere else I would rather be.”


End file.
